


here, where the world is quiet

by salazarsslytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-season 7, genna lannister is the best aunt ever, jaime and bronn travelling north together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 21:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarsslytherin/pseuds/salazarsslytherin
Summary: On their way north after leaving King's Landing, Jaime and Bronn stop at Aunt Genna's for a few nights of well-deserved rest from travelling in the cold.





	here, where the world is quiet

“ _Jaime_.  Seven fuckin’ _hells_ , you’re not gonna make it north of _anywhere_ if you don’t _rest_ ,” Bronn said firmly, digging his heels into his horse to keep it at the same fast pace Jaime had chosen.  “The sun’ll be gone soon, we need to make camp for the night.  _Jaime_.  Are you even fuckin’ _listening_ to me, Kingslayer?” Bronn demanded, reaching over to give Jaime a vicious shove.

Jaime’s horse skittered a bit as Jaime kept his balance with his thighs, turning to glare at Bronn.  “ _Yes_ , I’m listening.  We need to keep going, I know a place we can stay.  Somewhere safe.”

“If it’s some Lannister holdfast—”

“Frey, technically,” Jaime corrected.

Bronn arched his eyebrows.  “ _Frey_?  You wanna bed down with Freys?  Are you _mad_?”

“They’re loyal to my house,” Jaime said.  “We can stay there for a night or two, gather new supplies.  Get the horses fed.”

“They’re loyal to your _sister_.  If _you_ show your face there they’re gonna take your fool head off.”  And a good fucking _riddance_ that might be.  Might be he’d actually survive this suicidal journey across the country if he didn’t have the golden cunt in tow.  

Jaime glared at him.  “I never _asked_ you to follow me,” he snapped.

“No,” Bronn said.  “You want me to turn around and head back?”  He met Jaime’s gaze dead on as he asked, pleased when Jaime couldn’t hold it.

“No,” Jaime admitted lowly.  

“No,” Bronn agreed.  “You’d’ve been dead three times over if I hadn’t shown up to save your golden ass.”  And Jaime truly was lucky that it was a very fine golden ass indeed or he’d never have bothered.  As it happened, Bronn had—stupidly—rather grown to like the cunt and as such couldn’t find it in his meagre conscience to leave him alone out here.  Especially not since _having_ that ass, the second night after he’d caught up with Jaime on his fool’s mission.  Just the once (so far), but that had been more than enough; Jaime groaning sweetly beneath him, panting desperately, warm and pliant and tight.  Bronn wasn’t a man often led by his cock but he had to admit, even if only to himself, that Jaime had rather the hold on his, and had for some time.

Bronn had tried to entice him to open his legs again since but Jaime had been riding funny for two straight days after that first time and he’d refused on the grounds that he needed to be able to ride properly if they were ever to make it north.

Not that they were very well _heading_ north.  Bronn had tried to correct Jaime’s path several times in the past two days but Jaime had only insisted that he knew where he was going.  They weren’t following the Kingsroad which made it more difficult to navigate but they were definitely heading north- _west_.  If Jaime wanted to go this way, though, then who was Bronn to stop him?  He was only trying to keep the cunt alive, what did it matter to him where he did it?  

“It’s not far from here,” Jaime told him, urging his horse on again.  “We’ll be there before sundown.”

Bronn found that difficult to believe as sundown couldn’t be more than two hours away, but he didn’t argue; sometimes it just wasn’t worth it when it came to Jaime, who was as stubborn as he was pretty.

Sure enough though, just over an hour’s ride later, something came into view.  Not a large holdfast as Bronn had been expecting, but something less modest than a cottage.  A country mansion, maybe, like something a decently-famed landed knight might own, or the second son of a good family.  There were no banners hanging outside but Jaime made an immediate beeline for the building so Bronn assumed this was indeed the Freys whose hospitality they were about to rely on.

If Bronn had any religion left in him, he might have sent a prayer to the Crone to grant Jaime some more wisdom in his reckless ideas, but the gods weren’t going to help them.  Instead, it was a long-suffering sellsword who followed after Jaime Lannister with some hope of protecting him from his own madness.

Jaime had pulled his horse up a little way from the large front door, drawing his sword though his face was unconcerned.  “Genna?” he called out.  “Emmon?  It’s Jaime.”

Bronn came to a halt beside Jaime and drew his own sword, eyes narrowed on the door.  “Who the fuck’s Genna?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth but he needn’t have bothered.  There was the sound of wood being drawn back across a peep hole, then a little cry of greeting that preceded a chink of warm light pouring out of the door as it opened.

“Jaime!  Is that really you, sweetling?” a woman’s voice called out and Jaime put away his sword.

“It’s me,” he confirmed, sliding off his horse and taking the reins to walk the rest of the way to the house.  

Bronn followed suit, though he kept a pace behind Jaime and didn’t sheath his sword just yet.

“Oh, just look at you!” the woman fussed, stepping out and, to Bronn’s surprise, enveloping Jaime in a huge hug.  

Jaime accepted it with good grace, wrapping his good arm back around her, or around as much of her as he could, and only wincing away the slightest bit when she fondly pinched his ear.

Pulling away, Jaime stepped aside so Bronn was in view and gestured at him.  “Lady Genna, may I introduce you to Ser Bronn of the Blackwater?  He’s my—”  Jaime faltered suddenly and in the light from the open door, it was easy to see his cheeks turn pink.

“Bodyguard,” Bronn offered helpfully, finally stepping forward.

“My _friend_ ,” Jaime corrected quickly.  “Bronn, this is my aunt, Genna Frey.”

Bronn very gallantly took Genna’s hand and kissed it like highborn lordlings did and Jaime stared at him in shock.

“Pleasure to meet you, milady,” Bronn told her with a little smirk.  An _aunt_?  Oh, he hoped she had stories.

“Ser Jaime!” said a new voice, and a small, weedy man stepped out to greet them as well.  

He offered his right hand for Jaime to shake and Jaime looked at it for a second before awkwardly grasping it with his left.

Genna batted at the man, rolling her eyes.  “Oh, Emm, you _know_ that hand’s the metal one you great fool,” she berated him, sweeping an arm out to guide Jaime and Bronn inside.  “Go and fetch the stableboy, tell him to see to these horses.  You two, come on inside, you’ll catch your deaths out here.”

Her husband disappeared as bid and Jaime and Bronn both followed Genna inside.  Jaime let out an audible sigh of relief once the door was closed behind them.

“You’ll be wanting supper, I expect?  There’s plenty so not to worry, I’ll just let the cook know,” Genna told them, ringing a bell in the hallway and dispatching a young girl to the kitchen to let them know to expect two more for dinner.  “You go on through into the parlour there, Emmon will fetch you drinks when he’s back.  I’ll just go and arrange for rooms to be prepared for you both, and baths drawn, I think.”

She bustled off and Jaime turned to sniff at himself, mildly offended.

“Yeah, you don’t smell delightful, Lannister,” Bronn told him, clapping him on the shoulder before he wandered into the parlour and helped himself to a goblet of wine.  

“You don’t smell so fresh, yourself,” Jaime retorted, taking the goblet Bronn handed to him.  It was true, but Jaime wouldn’t have actually protested if Bronn hadn’t said it first; truth be told there was something about the scent, sweat and leather—it reminded him of both fighting and fucking, pleasant in an almost arousing sort of way.

Jaime shook himself free of that thought and sipped wine from his goblet, just barely refraining from groaning aloud as the taste burst over his tongue.

Bronn was watching him with a grin.  “Better than snowmelt, eh?” he asked knowingly.

“This is the best wine I’ve ever tasted,” Jaime declared, taking a second, much larger, gulp.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Genna said as she returned, patting Jaime on the back as she passed by and poured herself a glass.  “With the war and the troubles lately, it’s been near impossible to buy anything decent.”

She settled herself into one of the armchairs surrounding the cheerfully crackling fire, comfortingly orange flames in the grate.  Jaime took the seat beside hers, relaxing back into it; this wasn’t _home_ but it felt near enough, nearer than Jaime had known in years.  Genna had decorated the place much the same as Casterly Rock, with Lannister reds and dark woods, tasteful golden trim.  Over the mantle was a large portrait of Tytos Lannister; Jaime recognised him from similar portraits that had been hung on the walls at the Rock.  

Following Jaime’s gaze, Bronn’s attention also drifted to the painting, and he indicated it with his goblet.  “Who’s that?”

“My father,” Genna replied, also looking up at the man looking down on them.  “He was a good man but rather terrible at ruling.  My brother had a much better brain for it.”

“Your brother...Tywin?” Bronn guessed.  From what little he’d seen of Genna so far, the two could not be more dissimilar, but then look at Jaime and Cersei—they themselves were _twins_ and yet had little more in common than looks, these days.

“Yes, Tywin—my big brother,” Genna said.

Bronn glanced at Jaime with a slight smile.  “So that’s your grandfather?” 

Jaime nodded.  “I never knew him, though.  When he died, I would have been…”  He looked to Genna, unsure of the timings.

She took a moment to think back.  “You two must’ve been, oh...one?  It can’t have been much past your first nameday.”

“Never knew mine, either,” Bronn said with a shrug.  “He was probably a cunt.”

Jaime choked on his wine, shooting Genna a worried glance, and there was a moment of shocked quiet before she burst into loud, deep laughter.

“Oh, I like you,” she chuckled, eyes crinkling at Bronn.

Bronn took the compliment with a modest incline of his head and Jaime began to wonder if stopping here was for the best after all.  He misliked the idea of these two getting along too well; they both knew far too much about him and he didn’t trust them not to share.

Thankfully they were interrupted before either of them could start telling stories to say that water had been drawn for two baths in the guest quarters.  Genna waved them both off and Jaime and Bronn finished their wine with all haste before following a new servant up the main staircase and along a long corridor to the other side of the house.  Bronn looked around with interest, noting the layout.

“So we’re gonna sleep here, in the lord and lady’s quarters?” Bronn asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh no, ser,” the servant girl told him.  “Lord Emmon and Lady Genna’s quarters are in the main section of the house, this eastern side is the guest’s quarters.”

“Ah,” Bronn said.  “Just us and the other guests, then.”

“Actually, ser, you and Ser Jaime are the only guests here right now,” the girl replied.

“Nice and private, then,” Bronn said, throwing a smirk over at Jaime.

Jaime deliberately avoided looking back at him, feeling his face heat already with the implication of it.

The girl paused outside one of the doors and opened it before stepping back.  “This is yours, ser,” she said to Bronn, offering him a shy little smile that he didn’t notice as he stepped past her into the room.  It was the fanciest room he’d ever been given and he stared around at it in pleasurable awe for a second, eyes immediately landing on the big four poster bed in the centre, draped with crimson sheets.  Oh yes, he was going to fuck Jaime on that bed tonight.

He turned to shoot Jaime a _look_ to convey exactly that, but the servant girl had already led him off.  No matter, Bronn would find him later; for now, he wasted no time in stripping out of his filthy clothes and boots and tossing them aside so he could slip into the large bath that stood before the fire.

Bronn let out a long, loud groan as the hot water sloshed around him, warming him through.  He hadn’t been this warm in _years_ , it felt like, nor this peaceful and relaxed.  The only thing missing was Jaime; he’d have liked to have gotten the other man in here with him, but that would have looked somewhat suspect.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth for a long time before he even thought about moving to wash himself.  The soap was the fancy kind Jaime used to smell of before they’d started out on their journey and Bronn felt his cock give an unexpected jump at the mere scent of it.  Gods, he really was on edge if _that_ was turning him on, but he ignored it; he wasn’t about to spend himself now and waste the night on an idle wank.

He focused on scrubbing himself cleaner than he thought he might ever have been, letting himself slip back below the water and rubbing the soap into his hair and beard as well.  

When his breath ran out and he resurfaced, spitting water and shaking it from his hair like a dog, he realised someone had been knocking on the door, politely awaiting his permission to enter.  “Uh, you can come in,” Bronn said loudly, frowning over his shoulder to see who in seven hells was interrupting one of the best experiences of his entire life.

It was the servant girl, back with a pile of clothes and blankets.  She deftly averted her gaze as she slipped into the room and set half the pile down on a chair near the door, keeping the rest in her arms.

“Are those for Jaime?” Bronn called after her as she made to leave.

She turned back to him from the doorway and nodded.  “Yes ser, I’m to take them down the hall to him.”

“Best not,” Bronn advised sagely as an idea occurred to him.  “He’s a terrible temper when he’s interrupted—I wouldn’t want a sweet girl like you to be on the receiving end of it.  You _do_ know who he is, don’t you?”  It was almost too easy; the girl’s eyes widened a little as she looked uncertainly down at the clothes in her hands.

“Lady Genna said I’m to…” she trailed off, looking nervously off to where Jaime’s room must’ve been.

“Not to worry, girlie—I’ll take ‘em to him,” Bronn assured her.  “Just leave it all there with mine, I’ll see he gets them.”

The girl hesitated. 

“Go on, it’s fine—you run along back downstairs,” Bronn insisted, sitting up properly in his bath.

This time he caught the girl looking at him and offered her a cocky smirk and a quick wink.  It worked like a charm.  She set the clothes down on top of his pile, nodded politely at him, and hurried away with blushing cheeks.  

Bronn laughed to himself, and wondered at himself.  Not long ago he might have pursued something like that, had he a mind to; now all he could think about was walking into Jaime’s chamber to tease him and see _him_ blush.  Pink was such an endearing colour on him.

Standing with a great, careless slosh of water, Bronn clambered out of the bathtub and crossed the room to pluck a blanket from the pile to dry himself with, finding it easily softer than the best clothes he’d ever owned.  And to think highborn people like this just used it to dry up water after their luxurious baths.  Honestly, if Jaime wasn’t _Jaime_ Bronn would resent him a lot more for the posh little life the gods had graced him with.

Once he was dry, Bronn sorted through the whole pile of clothing the servant had brought to pick the nicest for himself; good thick breeches and a soft, warm tunic in a mossy green colour.  There was no need for jerkin or surcoat in the warm confines of the house and Bronn was glad to leave them; it was good to feel _light_ for once.

He pulled his own boots back on and gathered up the rest of the bundle before heading out to find Jaime.  

Fortunately, he wasn’t difficult to find; behind the very next door Bronn found Jaime’s things strewn carelessly across the hardwood, golden hand among them.  A second door off the bedroom stood ajar and Bronn could hear the sound of water from within but nothing else; Jaime hadn’t realised he had company yet.

Bronn took the opportunity to look around the room Jaime had been given.  He’d been expecting it to be a lot nicer than his but they weren’t much different; the ceiling was as high, the fire as warm, the bed as large.  Jaime’s sheets were blue and grey, Frey colours, and there was a little selection of scented oils and perfumes on a dresser, but frankly those could have been in Bronn’s room too and he’d simply overlooked them in his disinterest.  He pocketed one of the little bottles of oil.  

Satisfied, Bronn left the clothes and blankets on the bed before pushing open the door of the washroom and stepping through.  

Jaime had his back to him but he must have sensed that someone was nearby because he turned sharply, water spilling onto the floor, and stared at Bronn in shock.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he said quickly, shrinking down a bit in the water.  

“No point in being shy, Kingslayer,” Bronn told him with a grin.  “Ain’t nothing I haven’t already seen.”

Unfortunately the amount of grime that had come off Jaime had turned the water brown and murky so Bronn couldn’t see a thing, which had been his main reason for coming in here.  Jaime’s face was clean-shaven and scrubbed freshly pink, though, and his hair was golden once again, longer now than it had been when they’d started this journey.  Jaime had swept it back off his face, slick with water, but a few strands had fallen down into his eyes.

“You clean up nice,” Bronn told him, casually leaning against the wall.  “Very pretty.”

Jaime scowled at him.  “Don’t call me that.”

Bronn laughed.  “You _are_ pretty, prettiest thing I ever saw.”  He pushed off the wall and prowled closer, leaning over Jaime in the tub with a very pointed smirk.

Jaime was watching him warily and he leaned back a little as Bronn leaned in toward him, not sure what he was going to do, but Bronn reached up and caught him by the back of the head, wet hair against his palm.  Tugging him forward, Bronn pressed his mouth against Jaime’s, open and warm, and Jaime’s eyes were wide as he turned his face up for the kiss, the touch of Bronn’s tongue against his.

Pulling away with a huffed laugh, Bronn gave Jaime’s hair a playful tug before he stepped back.  “Best hurry up and get out, princess.  Supper’ll be ready soon.”

Jaime blinked dazedly before registering what Bronn had said.  It _had_ been a while since he’d gotten in the tub and it’d be a poor showing of manners to arrive late to dinner. 

“Did the servant girl leave a blanket or anything?” Jaime asked, leaning to try and see past Bronn into the room beyond.

“Aye it’s on the bed, and some clean clothes.”

Jaime paused.  “Can you...fetch it?  Please?”  

“Nah.”  Bronn grinned impishly.  “You can get it yourself, you lazy fucker.”

“It’s not _lazy_ , I’m not _wearing_ anything,” Jaime protested.

Bronn only continued to smirk at him, watching him closely, and didn’t make a move to fetch Jaime the blanket.

“Are you just going to _stand_ there?” Jaime demanded.

“Aye,” Bronn said.  “C’mon, then.”

Jaime rolled his eyes but stood up in a sudden rush of water, stepping over the side of the tub and striding past Bronn without a second look, chin tipped up.  He’d have looked rightly proud and indifferent if it hadn’t been for the flush spreading across his cheeks, down his neck, into his chest, but Bronn only loved that more, the hint of shyness he always found in Jaime.

Turning lazily on his heel, Bronn leaned back against the same door jamb to watch Jaime’s naked ass drip water as he crossed the room to grab a blanket and dry himself off.  He tugged on the pair of breeches left to him and yanked the lacings tight but didn’t bother trying to tie them, rubbing the blanket into his hair instead.

“You want a hand with those laces?” Bronn asked as Jaime eventually tossed the blanket aside and pulled the clean tunic on, once again leaving the fastenings open.

“It’s fine.”

“You can’t go downstairs like that, it looks like I’ve already fucked you,” Bronn scoffed, walking over and taking Jaime’s breech-laces in hand.  He tugged them tight, offering Jaime a knowing glance as he did so, and deftly tied a knot before doing the same for his tunic.  Jaime stood silently and gave a short nod when Bronn stepped away, the most thanks Bronn expected for anything like that.

“Hand?” Bronn offered, picking up the metal hand and offering it over.

Jaime considered for a second.  “No,” he said, shaking his sleeve down over the stump of his wrist.  “Leave it here.”

Bronn’s eyebrows jumped in surprise but he set the hand down and followed Jaime from the room.  That, more than anything, told Bronn that Jaime truly trusted this aunt of his; he rarely took the damned hand off, especially not in company.  

As he soon learned over supper, though, Genna was not like most of the other Lannisters Bronn had met.  She had the good parts and none of the scathing, back-handed insults—Tyrion’s humour and wit, Cersei’s cunning quickness, Jaime’s sweet charm.  There was a lot of Tywin in the commanding presence of her, but not so intimidating as her brother had been.  

There was little to be intimidated by in the maternal way she leaned over and pinched Jaime’s cheek, prodded at his ribs.  “You’re too thin, Jaime,” she’d declared as soon as they sat down.  She loved him, Bronn could tell, and he trusted people who loved Jaime, loved him _properly_ , a damn sight more than those who didn’t.  

“He was a skinny boy,” Genna told Bronn, nodding at Jaime.  “He and Cersei looked so alike as children, my brother’s little kittens.  I swear only Joanna could ever tell them apart.  Especially when Jaime went traipsing around in Cersei’s dresses.”

Bronn nearly snorted wine through his nose.  “You _what_?” he demanded, hooting with laughter.  

“She wanted to try swordplay!” Jaime protested loudly.  “I had to wear her clothes if I was to go to her lessons!”  But there was an easy hint of a smile in his mouth, laughter quiet in the words.  

“Oh, and a terrible job he did at them,” Genna said fondly.  “Worst needlework in the Westerlands, I’d wager.”

“I always used to wonder what gave us away,” Jaime mused.  “I don’t think Mother ever really minded but that I always used to get Cersei’s dresses covered in muck.”

“Couldn’t keep you out of the training yard even in a dress and bonnet,” Genna said.  “Nothing really changed, did it?  You off getting knighted before we knew it, and then in the Kingsguard.”

“Not to mention the dresses,” Bronn put in, and Genna let out a shout of laughter.

Jaime hit Bronn in the arm but he wasn’t cowed in the slightest.

“Tywin was angry enough about the dresses and the Kingsguard, both,” Genna said.

“A little more about the Kingsguard, I think,” Jaime replied, pouring himself more wine.  He felt calm and warm and content, lazy and safe slumped back in his chair and laughing lightly.

“He misliked you in those dresses well enough,” Genna said.  

Jaime shrugged.  “He misliked everything we did as children.”

“Do you remember the time you jumped off the cliffs at Casterly Rock?” Genna asked, and Bronn sat forward with interest.

“He did _what_ , now?” he asked.

Jaime grimaced before he gave a self-deprecating laugh.  “Oh, I remember.  It was good fun, until Cersei told Father.  That was the angriest I’d ever seen him, he whipped me himself.”

Genna turned to Bronn and gestured at Jaime.  “This one thought it’d be an adventure to throw himself over the clifftop into the sea—you must’ve been...seven, Jaime?  At least a hundred feet down to the water, it was.  He was lucky there weren’t any rocks below.”

“So you’ve always been a reckless shit,” Bronn said before turning to Genna and indicating Jaime with his thumb.  “Rode straight at one of those dragons on horseback, nothing but a damned spear in hand like he could joust the fucker to death.”

Genna let out a little gasp.  “Oh, Jaime, you _didn’t_?”

“He bloody did,” Bronn said darkly.  

Genna gave Jaime’s hand a light slap.  

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Jaime said indignantly, pulling his hand back.

“Only _just_ ,” Bronn said.  “Only ‘cause you’re fuckin’ lucky.”

“Only because _you_ were there,” Jaime corrected.

“Aye,” Bronn agreed.  “You were _lucky_ I was there.”

Genna leaned over and squeezed Bronn’s hand with her own, meeting his eyes with her own steady gaze, green as Jaime’s.  “I’m very glad you were there,” she told him seriously.  “And I’m sure Jaime hasn’t been able to suck up his pride enough to say it, so thank you.”

Bronn blinked at her for a moment, slightly taken aback by the earnestness in that thanks, before he nodded.  “Any time,” he replied, quite truthfully.  After throwing himself in front of a dragon for Jaime, he’d reluctantly come to admit to himself that there was little he _wouldn’t_ do for the golden fucker.  

Genna nodded back at him before she let go and set about re-filling everyone’s wine, her focus solely on Bronn now.  “So,” she said determinedly.  “Ser Bronn.  How did you come to meet my nephew?”

“Well,” Bronn said, taking a big gulp of wine.  “I used to work for your _other_ nephew, then Tyrion introduced me to Jaime when he needed to practice sparring with his left, so Jaime paid me to kick his ass every night.”

Genna laughed at that.  “And how did you meet Tyrion?”

“So, I was on my way north,” Bronn began, before launching into the tale of Tyrion’s kidnapping at the hands of Catelyn Stark, their travels to Riverrun, the trial and everything after.  Genna was near howling by the time he got to the part where he and the mountain clansmen were introduced to Tywin in his war tent.  

“I can just imagine his face,” she chuckled, wiping her eyes.

“Oh, it was a picture,” Bronn assured her with a grin.  

Jaime sat back and watched them, content to drink his wine and bask in the _homely_ feeling of it all, feeling himself grow pleasurably sleepy.  Bronn had Genna crying with laughter over some of his more _risky_ stories and even Emmon when he joined them couldn’t help but laugh along and pry for more.

Jaime himself was trying to hide his own amusement, his mouth hidden behind his cup, but Bronn kept glancing knowingly at him.  The game was up for good when Bronn did a particularly good impression of Meryn Trant and Jaime couldn’t hold back his snort of laughter, wine spilling down his front as he near choked on it.

“That’s _exactly_ what he sounded like,” Jaime said when he regained himself, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.  “ _Exactly_.”

“Gods, he was a fuckin’ cunt,” Bronn said.  

“You should’ve...tried being his _boss_ ,” Jaime said around a yawn, glancing at the window to note that it had grown fully dark outside while they’d been sitting talking.  Snow had started falling again, pressing on the windows and, now that he was listening, Jaime could hear the wind howling and whistling against the brick.  It would have been a bad night to huddle together under trees; Jaime had never felt more thankful for thick walls and warm fires.

Genna homed in on Jaime’s yawn and stood up, reaching over to take his cup.  “Oh look at me, keeping you up and talking to me when you must both be exhausted.  You’d better be off to bed, and us—it’s later than I realised.  You’ll be wanting breakfast, I assume?”

Jaime nodded and stood without protest; a warm, soft bed sounded exactly what he needed right now.

“I’ll let the cook know, but don’t you rush.  I’m sure you boys are exhausted—I’ll make sure no servants disturb you in the morning.  You come down when you’re ready,” Genna said, glancing knowingly between the two of them.

Jaime accidentally caught her look and flushed, dropping his eyes.  He bid his aunt goodnight and he and Bronn took their leave, finding their way back to the guest wing of the house.  

Bronn caught Jaime’s elbow as he made to walk to his bedroom, tugging him back through the door of his own.  “C’mon, in here,” he whispered, pulling Jaime inside and shutting the door.

Jaime didn’t protest, his eyes bright with sudden alertness, and he nervously wet his lower lip with a pink flash of tongue that Bronn chased with his own mouth.  He pressed Jaime back against the door, kissing his mouth open and licking at him, his cock hardening immediately as Jaime let out a moan.

“Want you in this bed,” Bronn told him, pulling impatiently at the laces of Jaime’s tunic until the knot loosened enough for him to be able to yank it over Jaime’s head.  “Want you naked and hard and in a proper lord’s bed, all pretty and posh.”

Bronn ran his hands up Jaime’s chest, feeling him shiver at the touch, and gave both nipples a sharp pinch that made him gasp and throw his head back, the sound accompanied by the dull thud of his skull hitting the door.

Bronn laughed and tugged him forward by the waistband of his breeches, giving him a gentle shove to encourage him toward the bed.  

Jaime went at once, crawling onto the bed and turning over, scrambling back up the mattress as Bronn followed him.  Bronn let himself fall down onto Jaime, chest-to-chest, pressing him down as he kissed him again.  His hand drifted up into Jaime’s hair and he pulled back so he could speak.

“Head okay?”

“It’s fine,” Jaime said quickly, resuming the kiss and arching into Bronn, his left hand tugging at the hem of Bronn’s tunic to try and get it out of the way.

Bronn took pity on him and sat up, pulling his shirt off over his head and throwing it to the floor beside them.  Jaime was resplendent beneath him, gold against Lannister red sheets, flushed and glowing.

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful right now, Jaime,” Bronn told him breathlessly, taking a long moment to just _look_ at him.  Gods, but Jaime was the single most beautiful man he’d ever seen, he couldn’t believe that _he_ had the luck, the _privilege_ , to be the one sitting atop him to feel his hardness against him, hear his hitched breathing, watch his eyes grow dark with want.  

Bronn shifted so he could open Jaime’s breeches and pull them down over his legs with his smallclothes, helped along as Jaime kicked them off.  He was rock hard already, his cock swaying back to lay against his stomach, already leaking.

“So hard for me,” Bronn said smugly, taking him in hand and giving him a few quick, dry tugs.

Jaime’s hips stuttered and he bit his lip, swallowing back his moan.  

“No, no,” Bronn said, leaning down to kiss him again.  “Let me hear you, princess.  Nobody else around here to hear you but me, c’mon, I wanna hear how good you feel.”

He fumbled the bottle of oil from his pocket as he spoke before divesting himself of his own breeches, shoving them out of the way.  Pulling off the cork, Bronn dribbled oil over his palm and fisted Jaime’s cock, stroking him lazily as Jaime’s hips bucked into him and he let out a strangled moan.

“That’s it,” Bronn coached, taking a moment to oil up the fingers of his other hand as well.  “That’s it, Jaime, gods I love how you sound.”  Nothing like a whore or a lowborn wench, not even like a soldier bent over in a war tent, but like _Jaime_ , like his high, slow voice, somehow still so posh even with his mouth around a groan of pleasure.  

Dipping his fingers between Jaime’s thighs, Bronn sought out his hole and slowly started to tease at it, rubbing back and forth but not pressing inside just yet.  

“You want this?” Bronn whispered to him, leaning in to press chaste kisses against Jaime’s mouth.  

“ _Yes_ ,” Jaime breathed, widening his thighs to give Bronn better access.  

Bronn slipped a finger in to the first knuckle and Jaime instinctively tensed, grunting at the feeling, before he relaxed into it.  

“That’s it,” Bronn encouraged when he felt Jaime deliberately unclench his muscles to allow the intrusion.  He pushed more firmly, managing to get his entire finger inside before Jaime tensed again, his legs twitching, throat exposed as he threw his head back and gasped for breath.

“Alright?” Bronn asked him, working Jaime over from the inside, feeling about and rubbing hard with his fingertip until Jaime was shuddering and speechless from that alone, able only to nod at the question.  “Good,” Bronn said, pulling back and pressing the tip of his second finger into Jaime as well.  “Been thinking about this all night.  Soon as I saw this bed I wanted to fuck you in it.  Wanted to fuck you again for _ages_ , you’re too fuckin’ pretty for your own good.”

Jaime clenched around Bronn at that, moaning low in the back of his throat as he clutched at Bronn’s shoulder.  “I thought about—that night,” he gasped out.  “I wanted to do it again.”  He said it like it was a confession, not quite able to look Bronn in the eye as the words tumbled out.

“ _Good_ ,” Bronn said again, pushing in firmly with both fingers to get them as deep as he could, flexing them inside and searching out that little spot in him again.  “Got me hard when I saw you all stiff on your horse the next day, knowing your ass was sore ‘cause of me.  You been _killing_ me keeping it from me again.  _This_ ,” he said, grasping Jaime’s asscheek in his free hand, squeezing hard.  

Jaime jumped against him, grinding down, his eyelashes fluttering.  

“I’d have you like this every night if I could, and every morning, and the times in between.  Keep you here in bed with me,” Bronn told him mindlessly, leaning down to kiss him again, pressing in with his tongue.  “I should just steal you away to the Free Cities,” he said when he stopped for air.  “Fuck this entire war and forget the whole thing, just find somewhere safe and _have_ you.  You’d love Lys.”

Jaime let out a gasp, stuttered ‘ _Ah_ ’s as Bronn started working another finger into him, just now starting to skirt the edge of pain rather than mere discomfort.  “I’d go,” he got out after a moment, choked.  “I’d go with you.  Don’t ask me.”

“I won’t,” Bronn promised roughly, teeth scraping at Jaime’s neck, smooth and bared for him.  “I’ll follow you north, you great fool.  I’ll fuckin’ die with you, you cunt.”  Bronn bit down and Jaime let out a cry, his arm looping around Bronn’s shoulders and holding tightly, thighs flexing around Bronn’s hips.  

Bronn couldn’t wait any longer and he pulled his fingers out, fisting his cock and stroking a few times before nudging the head against Jaime, rubbing against him to find his hole.  

Jaime swore at the first, immediate breach of it, the head so much wider than even three fingers had been, thick and warm and undeniable.  

Bronn guided himself in with steady pressure, watching entranced as the end disappeared inside Jaime and he paused like that, still and steady with Jaime held open around the head of his cock.

“ _Bronn_ ,” Jaime ground out.  His thighs were trembling, the pressure was too great and _not enough_ , he needed _more_ ; he felt like he could feel every inch of him Bronn _wasn’t_.  

“How’s that?” Bronn teased him, edging back out the slightest bit and in again, delighted by the pull of Jaime around him, like his body was trying desperately to keep him there.  “That enough for ya?  Just the tip like that?”

Jaime let out a strangled sob and shook his head, arching up and pushing down so Bronn slipped a little deeper inside, though he held himself back so Jaime didn’t get exactly what he wanted.  

“Come on, Jaime,” he encouraged.  “Tell me what you want.”

“Don’t be a _bastard_ ,” Jaime growled at him.  “You _know_ what I want.”

Bronn flexed his hips the slightest bit, nudging and tugging at Jaime’s entrance with the head of his cock, teasing his own self nearly as much as he was teasing Jaime, but the look on his face was worth it.  Sweat was beading at Jaime’s hairline, his eyes dark with hunger and want, mouth opening and closing around needy groans.  

“What do you want, Jaime?” Bronn asked him.  He fisted Jaime’s cock once more and stroked him a few times, watching him intently.  “Tell me what you want, I wanna hear you say it.”  

Jaime let out a little huff but he didn’t have the discipline to hold out any longer.  “ _You_ ,” he said earnestly, canting his hips up again.  “Your...your _cock_ , come _on_.”  He was beet red at admitting it and Bronn couldn’t stop himself from kissing him again.  

“You’ve got my cock,” Bronn said reasonably, trying to control his own breathlessness.  “It’s in you right now.”  He gave another tiny thrust to prove it.  It was getting more and more difficult to keep himself in check, to hold Jaime open around so little of him; the pressure and the twitching, desperate feel of Jaime around him was making him half-mad, but he knew it was driving Jaime wild.

Jaime struggled under him, arching his back and gripping Bronn’s asscheek with his hand, trying to tug him closer but Bronn was unmoveable.  “ _Bronn_!” Jaime snapped, turning his head this way and that on the silken pillows, closing his eyes and letting out a long, low moan of frustration.  “ _Please_ , Bronn, come _on_.  Let me have it.”

Bronn tortured him a few seconds longer before he finally, _finally_ let himself start to sink into him properly, the push long and slow.  

Jaime let out a startled little yelp, gasping for breath as he was filled, and his hand skirted up Bronn’s back to cling to his shoulder once again.  “ _Ah_ —slower, _slower_ than that— _Bronn_!”

Bronn paused obligingly, waiting for Jaime to catch his breath a bit.  He reached up to push already-sweaty hair from Jaime’s forehead, swiping a thumb affectionately across his cheek.  “Bit much?” he asked.

Jaime could only nod, working himself through the feeling of it, trying to adjust to the thick width planted inside him, stretching him open.  He reached blindly between them, trying to feel how much of Bronn he’d taken so far, and Bronn caught his hand and pinned it to the mattress by his head.

“Bronn, l—”

“Ssh, don’t fret,” Bronn soothed.  “Is that enough?  I can fuck you just like this, princess.”

“ _No_!” Jaime said quickly.  “I can take it, just give me a second.”

Bronn chuckled.  “You don’t _have_ to take all of it, Jaime, we can—”

“I _can_ take it,” Jaime insisted, more loudly than he’d intended.

“Alright, alright,” Bronn said quickly, amused.  He shifted his weight onto his elbows, leaning down close over Jaime, and knocked their noses together.  “Let me know.”

Jaime swallowed and nodded, his thighs open and loose around Bronn’s hips.  “Okay,” he said after a few moments.  He shifted, angling himself invitingly.  

Bronn didn’t ask if he was sure.  He pressed inward again, slowly as he could manage, and watched Jaime’s face carefully for any sign that it was more than he could take and he was just too proud to admit it.  They’d only managed a few inches the first time they’d done this and it had still been some of the most enjoyable sex Bronn had ever experienced.      

He stopped again before Jaime had a chance to ask him to, sweating himself with the effort of taking it so slow when all he wanted to do was slam into the body beneath him and spend himself as hard as he could.

“Is that all of it now?” Jaime asked, wriggling a little.

“Nearly,” Bronn said.  “Enough?”

“No,” Jaime said firmly, and Bronn could feel him tensing and tightening about his cock, testing the feeling out.  

“You don’t have to take the whole damn thing, Jaime.”  Bronn wasn’t exactly _small_ and while he was very proud of that fact, he didn’t want to _hurt_ Jaime by giving him more than he could handle.

“I _want_ it, I can _take_ it,” Jaime said, gasping as Bronn pulled back and gave a tiny little thrust.  “Come on, _please_.”  

And who was Bronn, to resist such pretty begging?

Fighting the urge to drive inside in one last, quick push, Bronn maintained the same slow, steady pace from before but he kept it up this time until, with a little grunt of satisfaction, he was sat fully against Jaime, balls flush against his ass.  

Jaime threw his head back and gasped for breath, no longer trying to move and arch and press for more but laying still, simply taking it in.

Bronn kissed his open mouth, relaxing now that he was fully seated and didn’t have to keep himself poised half-way.  

Jaime returned the kiss with a needy moan and the slick sound of their lips and tongues together was the only noise in the room until Bronn began to move and Jaime began moaning in earnest.  

He kept his thrusts small at first, just an inch or so back and forth but set a quick, steady rhythm, and wound an arm under Jaime’s back to pull him in as close as he could get.  He could feel Jaime’s hard cock trapped between them, rubbing against Bronn’s stomach every time he shifted and trailing wetness everywhere it touched.  

Jaime couldn’t catch his breath, little moans forced out of him each time Bronn thrust back inside, slowly getting rougher as he pulled back more and more each time.  He wanted to tell him how he looked, how debauched and _perfect_ he was like this, flushed pink and panting under Bronn, being filled by him, but he needed to save his breath and he was sure Jaime was too senseless just then to understand anything Bronn said anyway.  

Squeezing tight with the arm around Jaime’s back, Bronn set his teeth against his throat and sucked hard, groaning as he started to fuck properly.  

Jaime was gasping, his heels scrambling against the bed, legs jerking every time Bronn shoved into him.  He started to cry out with each thrust as Bronn drove his entire length inside, in no state to think about the noise he was making, and Bronn would never, as long as he lived, forget the way Jaime sounded then.

“Come on,” Bronn gasped at him, his hips bruising against Jaime’s ass, the slap of skin obscenely loud now.  “Come _on_ , Jaime, I know you’re close.”

“I need to—”  Jaime’s fingers worked at Bronn’s ribs, trying to get between their bodies, but Bronn smacked his hand away.

“You don’t,” he said roughly.  “Come on, like this.  On my cock, you wanted it so bad, come _on_ , Jaime, let me hear you, how much you love it, _come on_ —”

Jaime’s shout of pleasure drowned out Bronn’s litany and he shuddered hard, his back arching up off the bed and _that_ angle, fuck it was perfect, Bronn drove deep inside him, grabbing Jaime’s thighs and hitching them properly around him.  He didn’t stop, fucked him as hard as he ever had, unable to contain his own grunts and groans at the sheer effort of it, mindless of the way Jaime had sagged, boneless in his spent pleasure.

Bronn didn’t stop until he was sated, climax rushing through him and filling Jaime until it spilled from him, too, leaking out as Bronn thrust a few final times, relishing the slick, easy slide of it.  

He collapsed ungraciously onto Jaime’s chest when he was done, still enjoying the feeling of having his cock inside Jaime’s ass too much to pull out just yet.  Instead his lips sought out Jaime’s neck once again, sucking another mark into a new patch of skin, and Jaime could only let out the faintest groan of protest, too exhausted for anything else.  

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bronn said hoarsely when he’d regained the ability to speak.  “You can’t tell me no again after that.  No way I’m gonna survive the whole journey north without having you again.”

Jaime let out a quiet, amused huff.  “Can’t ride,” he said sleepily.

Bronn wrapped both arms around him and rolled them together onto their sides, careful not to dislodge his cock, and settled behind Jaime instead.  “You’re gonna have to learn how to use your mouth, then,” Bronn said decisively, reaching up to run a finger over Jaime’s lips.  He shivered at the mere thought of it, and wished he was a man of twenty again so he could _do_ something about it.

Jaime didn’t protest, though that may have been because he was already nearly asleep, and Bronn let out a small, satisfied sigh.  He pressed a quiet kiss to the back of Jaime’s neck, and another to his shoulder, just because.    

It was a shame that this was only a reprieve, that they couldn’t stay here in this place, safe and warm and sated.  Soon, they would have to go back out into the cold and continue struggling and fighting, just trying to survive.  

But for a night, or maybe even two, the war outside would ignore them and they could kiss and fuck and sleep, like normal people in a normal world.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love these two and there's nowhere near enough content for them so if anyone wants to talk headcanons, share ideas or just chat, feel free to message me on [tumblr](http://salazarsslytherin.tumblr.com)! :)


End file.
